


That's Not Yours

by levi_cas_tho



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Awkward Castiel (Supernatural), Awkward Dean Winchester, Castiel in the Bunker, Fallen Angel Castiel (Supernatural), Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, They are Complete Dorks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-12
Updated: 2018-04-12
Packaged: 2019-04-21 19:11:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14291523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/levi_cas_tho/pseuds/levi_cas_tho
Summary: “That’s not yours.”Castiel blearily glanced up at the words, still rubbing sleep from his eyes as he stumbled into the kitchen. He blinked and shook his head in an attempt to clear away the cobwebs. “Huh?”“That shirt,” Dean elaborated, a mug of coffee paused in its journey to his mouth as he looked at Castiel expectantly. “I’ve never seen you wear it before. Actually…” The mug was set down as Dean’s eyebrows scrunched together. “Dude, is that mine?” he asked incredulously.______Basically pure fluff with Dean and Cas being awkward bumbling idiots.





	That's Not Yours

“That’s not yours.”

Castiel blearily glanced up at the words, still rubbing sleep from his eyes as he stumbled into the kitchen. He blinked and shook his head in an attempt to clear away the cobwebs. “Huh?”

“That shirt,” Dean elaborated, a mug of coffee paused in its journey to his mouth as he looked at Castiel expectantly. “I’ve never seen you wear it before. Actually…” The mug was set down as Dean’s eyebrows scrunched together. “Dude, is that _mine_?” he asked incredulously.

Panic washed away any lingering drowsiness. _Oh god._ Castiel had forgotten to change shirts before coming out for breakfast. _Fuck._ How could he have been so _stupid_?

“It is!” Dean exclaimed seemingly oblivious to Castiel’s inner turmoil. “I’ve been missing that shirt for _years_! How the hell did you end up with it?”

Castiel licked his lips nervously, eyes darting away. He began wringing his hands together, a nervous trait he acquired when he had first become human. The concrete floor was freezing beneath his bare feet. It seemed that in his rush to obtain coffee he had forgotten his slippers as well.  “I…”

“Cas?” Dean’s voice was laced with concern now, and Castiel broke.

“I’m sorry,” he rushed out, “I’ll give it back, I promise.”

Dean blinked, head jerking back in surprise. “Woah, man, take it easy. It’s no big deal. I just wanted to know why you have it. And what are you still doing still standing there? You must be dying for your coffee by now,” Dean teased, trying to lighten the mood. He sighed when Castiel didn’t budge. “Come sit down, Cas. Please. I swear you’re not in trouble or anything.”

Castiel obliged, albeit reluctantly. He winced as the chair squeaked when he pulled it back.

Dean let out a soft laugh. “Yeah, I hate that noise, too,” he said, getting up to poor a fresh cup of coffee before Castiel could protest. He added cream and honey before setting it in front of the ex-angel, who latched onto the warm mug like it was a lifeline.

They sat and basked in the silence, sipping from their cups, until Castiel finally found the nerve to speak.

“I stole it,” he admitted softly. He distracted himself by swirling around what was left of the coffee, allowing the whirling liquid to hypnotize him.

“Huh?”

“The shirt.” He realized with amusement that they had echoed the same lines that had begun this conversation. “I took it from your hamper a month or two after falling.”

When he chanced a glance up, he saw Dean’s face scrunched up with bafflement. “What? Why?”

Castiel’s cheeks flooded with embarrassment and shame. _Oh god, this was a mistake. He should just change the topic, leave, do something other than—_

Dean’s hand brushing his own snapped him out of his thoughts. “It’s alright, Cas,” he said reassuringly. “You can tell me. I won’t laugh.”

Castiel gulped, well aware of the weight of what he was about to say. His voice barely a whisper, he confessed. “It smelled like you.” Dean recoiled as if he had been slapped, but Castiel couldn’t for the life of him find it in him to stop, now that he had started. “It was the only thing that helped my sleep. It lost its scent long ago, of course, but…” His face is practically aflame, now. “I couldn’t bear to part with it. I wear it, sometimes, or just hold it. I usually make sure to change before I come out here.”

As soon as he stops, Castiel notices that he feels somehow lighter. He had carried around this secret for year, and to finally let it go…

Dean clears his throat, “Um. I don’t—”

Heart sinking, Castiel scrambles to correct himself. “I apologize for making you uncomfortable. This was widely inappropriate of me, I know. As I said earlier, I’ll return it immediately. I only hope that this revelation didn’t ruin anything between us.”

“Dude, it’s cool, I just…” Dean shifts nervously, his own cheeks taking on a gorgeous pink hue. “Does it still, you know, help you sleep and stuff? Even though it doesn’t… smell like me anymore?”

Castiel blinks at the unexpected question. Was Dean mocking him? “Yes,” he admits hesitantly, eyeing Dean with suspicion. “Though, I would much prefer if it still did, um, smell that way.”

Dean nods and licks his lips, eyes flitting around nervously. “Well uh, I could give you another shirt if you want. And we can switch them out, that way you’ll always have something around with that fresh Dean scent.” He gives Cas a strained, wry smile, but Castiel can only gape at him.

“Dean, I couldn’t possibly—”

“ _Or,”_ Dean interrupts, “you could just sleep in my bed. If you want. Obviously.”

Castiel stares. And stares. Surely, Dean _must_ be mocking him at this point. “But the where would you sleep?” he asks stupidly.

An abrupt bark of laughter escapes Dean at that, and he rolls his eyes fondly. “I’d be on the bed with you, doofus.” Dean rubs the back of his neck as he speaks, but he meets Cas’s eyes head on.

Castiel opens his mouth. Closes it. Shakes his head and desperately tries to make sense of this situation.

Maybe he’s still dreaming.

Dean chuckles humorlessly. “You know what? Stupid idea, never mind. Just, you know, forget it or whatever—”

“Dean.” Dean stops, hands still braced on the table in preparation to push his chair back and flee. Castiel licks his lips and considers his next words very, very carefully. “Would you like that?”

The sheepish look he gets in return is answer enough. Castiel relaxes in his seat, undoubtedly surprised but also undeniably pleased. “Alright.”

Dean’s eyebrows fly up. “ _Alright_?” he parrots.

Castiel’s lips quirk up. “Yes,” he replies calmly. “Alright. I would love to accept your offer.”

Dean is blinking rapidly now, eyelashes fluttering. “I…” he stops. Clears his throat and finally sinks back into his seat. “Alright. Cool. Uh… Thanks.”

They both stare at each other, blushing like idiots until a grin bursts across Dean’s face. Castiel’s answering smile is just as bright.

“Cool,” Dean repeats, softer this time.

After that, they go back to sipping their coffees in silence. Occasionally, one will glace up and catch the other staring, causing both of them to blush furiously and pretend to be looking somewhere else.

It was ridiculous.

Castiel _loved_ it.

(They were so caught up in each other, they didn’t even notice Sam trot into the kitchen, take one look at their flaming cheeks, and promptly spin on his heel to leave.)

\-----------

Castiel’s sleep undeniably improved after that night, as did Dean’s. And if one night sharing a bed suddenly turned into cuddling suddenly turned into frantic kissing, well... surely no one would judge.

 

 

**_FIN._ **

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading. Feel free to let me know what you think.


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